


Solavellan One-shots

by GreyMahariel



Series: Mahariel Lavellan - Pieces [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fic, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMahariel/pseuds/GreyMahariel
Summary: Collection of solavellan one-shots.Rating of each one-shot is indicated at its beginning. General rating is E because of some NSFW one-shots, most are T. Don't hesitate to rummage through! Beware, lot of silly elfy fluff around!





	1. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [One-shot rating: T]
> 
> Some prefer to celebrate quietly once the party is over.
> 
> Some First Day Solavellan fluff to finish 2017. Happy new year!

* * *

Mahariel shifted a bit in the long lagoon dress. She only half heard whatever Hawke just said but offered a smile nonetheless. She might have indulged more than reason recommended in the wine. She glanced at the bottle of Aggregio. Hum, considering it was mostly empty and the others were with ale, probably. The night was well advanced and the party had gotten calmer since midnight. There was but the inner circle at the table, bantering merrily. An unusual pout reclaimed her lips as she looked around. She spoke up, not even aware she interrupted Varric.

“Where is Solas?”

Face to her, both of Dorian’s brows went up, few seconds of silence falling over the table before they broke into a laugh. So, she was drunk. The Inquisitor was quite secretive in her relationship, as much as the apostate. For it was no secret that they were together, it took a lot of effort for anyone wishing to catch a glimpse of affection to succeed. The white-hair tilted her head at them, too inebriated to understand the origin of their amusement. Her pouting lip remained as she frowned, waiting for someone to answer her. Varric finally tapped gently her shoulder, his words punctuated by faint chuckles.

“He told us goodnight half an hour ago, remember?”

“Doesn’t tell me _where_ he is.” Hawke grinned next to them.

“That depends, someone kept track of _his_ glasses? Under five, his quarters, five and more, I’d say yours.”

More than her words, it was Mahariel’s reaction which triggered the laughter once more. She considered the Champion before nodding, accepting pretty readily her reasoning. Far from the theoretical blush and glare that should have happened.

“Guess I’ll have to try both then. Goodnight!”

She smiled and raised from her chair, not giving more attention to the laughs or comments. She focused on not stepping over her long dress. The support of the wall was welcome in her slow progress. Behind her, Dorian said something about helping her, but they quickly chased the thought, considering her plans. The light fabric was echoing the color of her eyes. She had let down her long white-hair hours ago, tired of the complicated hairstyle tugging her scalp. She made her way to the hall and then through the rotunda to reach the battlements. When they finally provided Solas with proper quarters, they had been in a tower, close to the rotunda and therefore, his study. She was hardly walking straight and was unsure in her steps but she eventually reached the door and knocked. Her teeth played over her bottom lip as no answer came, and she wondered too late if he was sleeping. She winced to herself at the thought. Half an hour, with the alcohol…Yeah, probably asleep. She decided to turn around, defeated and with no wish to trouble him if he wanted rest. She could have come back to the others but she preferred to head for her quarters.

The endless stairs were a mighty opponent in her current state and she had a hard time making her way up. She regretted her decision once face to them. She could as well have slipped in Solas’ bed, he would not have minded. She blinked a bit with the unexpected light when she arrived at the top.

“I was wondering if you heard me when I left, vhenan.”

She looked up with surprise at Solas. He had had time to stand from his chair between the moment when the door opened and the one she arrived. He had two flutes of champagne waiting on the table, candles enlightening softly the room. She smiled genuinely, closing the distance. He could taste the wine on her lips as she pressed them against his.

“I thought you were asleep.” She huddled against his chest. He looked down at her with amusement and stepped away gently. His fingers came under her chin to make her gaze up at him.

“How much did you drink?”

“Too much, or not enough, depending of what was intended.” Offered she with a bright smile before reaching for his lips again. She pressed her body against him with the kiss and lost her balance, making the both of them fall backwards on the bed. Her hot breath was in his neck as she laughed lightly. He shook his head with a muttered chuckle as he commented.

“No champagne, then?”

“Of course, champagne!”

He hesitated for a second but considered she had quite a powerful recipe for hangover potion. He was not exactly sober either, to be honest. He pushed her gently away from him to go get the flutes. She straightened when he came back to sit next to her. She took happily the glass he handed, sliding closer to him. He smirked a little before pulling her across his laps. It earned him a small giggle as one arm came around his neck, the other trying to hold the glass without spilling any of it. She nuzzled his jaw and put light kisses in his neck, making his skin tingle. He grinned wolfishly and turned his face to steal one of the smooches. They bumped lightly their flutes against one another.

“Happy First Day, vhenan.”

“Happy First Day, ara lath.”


	2. Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompted One-shot: Disagreements and making up. One-shot Rating: T]
> 
> Mahariel and Solas disagree about what she intends to do with the Grey Wardens.

* * *

“On the bright side, it keeps things interesting.”

She quirked a dismissive brow at Dorian before looking back to the bottom of her tankard.

Did she tell him what happened? No. Did she need to? Apparently not. There had been enough occurrences of this same argument as of late. Solas’ point of view about the Grey Wardens was no secret. As for her, she was no fervent protector of the Order. Though, she respected them, and she thought them an asset that, if used carefully, could be valuable. One not to overlook in the current situation.

Her guess, Solas had been pouting over a book since they parted. The Tevinter would have fill in the gaps easily enough to come pester her at the tavern. Despite her silence and her lack of interest for his train of thought, he went on.

“I mean, you two agree on everything or almost. Must become boring. This is spicing things. Both for the actors and the audience, don’t you agree?” She rolled her blue-green eyes and gulped some of her ale.

“Let’s take a minute to picture how little I care that you are enjoying the show.”

At her utter irritation, he mimicked an angry cat, pocking at her shoulder with his _claws_.

“ _Meow!_ Snarky, are we? Alright, let’s just brood and drink in an uneased silence.”

Of course, he managed to do that for less than ten seconds.

* * *

 

She did not get the chance to linger at the tavern long before another meeting called for her attention. Now, she could see one _true_ bright side to her despicable mood. Matters were handled quickly and effectively, the advisors having no particular wish to remain in the same room as her for the time being.

It left her alone to face one alarming report alone in her quarters. One from Stroud, of course. And what they were to expect. She let out a slow breath. _You’ve got to be kidding me_. It had never sounded like a piece of cake. Having a location should have been good news to her. Kind of. But the only thing she saw is that for the little they knew of this mess, the Veil had to be in a very poor state where they would be heading. Blood magic and demons tended to do that, especially in old buildings that had seen much.

She needed an advice that she was more than reluctant to seek.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. This could not wait. Hopefully, he would still be in the rotunda. _Let’s just hope I’m not going downstairs only to restart a fight._

* * *

 

Solas let escape a long sigh. Cole finally gave up on talking to him for now. The spirit had good intentions, but sometimes, he was just not in the mood to take these.

How stubborn could she be? He had no trust in the Grey Wardens. And she had little of that either, that was the worst. So why, in Mythal’s name was she so obstinate in giving them a second chance? They were blinded by an erroneous sense of duty that would lead them to their fall.

But her clan was in Ferelden at the beginning of the Blight. She would not admit it, not even to herself, but that was why she was set in this decision, he was certain of it. Because some part of her remembered all too well the despair brought upon the lands, and the fairytale-like stories of the mighty Grey Wardens who saved Thedas a decade ago.  

It was naïve. Naivety was so unlike her, it drove him mad about the whole situation. Not because she refused to listen to him. In other circumstances, he could find some comfort even in seeing her, a trained assassin, still having this kind of innocence in her.

Though, not here. She would take the blow hard when the Order will disappoint her. And they will. That made him mad to think how she would blame herself for it because she decided to give them a chance.

He shook his head, jaw gritted, trying to focus on the words under his eyes.

He caught her small moment of hesitation as she stepped into the rotunda. His brow quirked. Was it too much to hope that she thought about it and was ready to see his point? Probably. He finished the line calmly before looking up at her. His storm eyes examined her stance and did not fail to see a remnant coldness laced with some reluctance at standing here. His gaze dropped to the papers held tightly in her hand.

“Inquisitor.”

If the title made her cringe on the inside – and it did – she gave nothing away. She gave a curt nod.

“Solas. My apologies for disturbing you at such hour.”

She certainly had no trouble of her own to sound oh so formally detached. He raised slowly from his chair, glancing at the reports.

“What can I do for you?”

She paused before answering. Definitely reluctant to present him the issue. She eventually extended the papers to him without a word. His brows furrowed at the very first lines. He peered at her with disbelief. Was she so eager for them to fight again? She commented, having no need to hear the untold question.

“This is no ideological point of view that I am seeking. I need a practical advice. The Inquisition intends to bring several mages along, and Stroud’s words concern me about how safe it shall be to do so.”

He took a silent breath and slowly nodded. Wise thing to question, he would give her that. He looked back at the report. She leaned against the doorframe, quietly letting him read. From the corner of his eye, he could see her gaze linger over his frescoes. He had to suppress a smile. No matter how often she saw them, she never stopped looking at them that way. With wonder, admiration.

After reading it twice, he sauntered to his desk wistfully. It caught her attention.

“So?” He pursed his lips.

“First tell me. What was your thought?” She ran a hand through her white hair and admitted.

“Asking for templar reinforcement.”  He spun to her with disbelief.

“What?” Her eyes hardened.

“This does not please me more than you. But every mage that is supposed to be there is needed. I have to be there, Hawke has to, and our troops need healers. I do not want to consider the possibility of taking down our own, but we know little of what is going on. If any of us get possessed, they will need to be neutralized.” His fist tensed.

“The Veil will be thin. Their ritual will attract demons. This is not safe, especially for you. They will be drawn to the Anchor.”

“My presence during the attack is no subject for debate.” His brows furrowed. Of course, she was right. The Inquisitor had to be there, he knew that. But that her back-up plan was templars…His scowl suddenly deepened.

“You mentioned Hawke and yourself only.”

“We _have_ to be there. This does not apply to other mages I could possibly bring along. There is no reason to risk it.” She stated evenly without looking at him. He blinked at that. She could not possibly be serious.

“With all due respect, _Inquisitor_ , I do believe that this particular conclusion of yours is obsolete.” She glanced quickly at him.

“No. And this is an order.”

Despite her words, her voice had softened in a way it did not of the all conversation so far. Or of the all day, for that matter. He shook his head and took a step closer.

“Mahariel, there is no way I am not coming.”

“There is. This is dangerous, especially for mages. I am not risking it.”

“And what if something happens? I shall not rely on templars for that matter. Let’s admit one of you get possessed. They will be as quick as to take the mage down. If this is you…” He paused to still his voice, trembling at the very thought. “They will make you a Tranquil to preserve the Anchor.”

She fell silent, averting her gaze. That sounded like the most likely, indeed. His fingers went for her chin, wanting to make her meet his eyes. She dodged the contact and stepped back.

“Your confirmation about the state of the Veil and the demon threat was all I needed. Thank you, Solas. I shall not bother you further.”

She turned for the door. His arm stood in the way before she could make her escape. She bit her bottom lip, feeling his breath near her neck.

“Do not ask me to have you there, Solas.” She whispered. “You just stated the risks. I cannot…”

“This is precisely what I’m asking you. We do disagree on what to do with the Order. If this is a concern, trust that I will not interfere. My opinion is not the one that matters. However, I cannot let you run into that and rely on templars to save the day. They won’t consider options that _I_ am able to provide.”

Her teeth kept worrying over her lip, appraising his words. She turned slowly to face him, finding him as close as his voice and breath had suggested.

“Your opinion does matter. I know you think I am not listening, but I do. You have good points, I won’t question that. But we need manpower. Even now, we cannot match Corypheus’ army with our number.” She offered.

“And I hear you too. The decision is, in any case, yours and only yours to make. But right now, what I want to hear you say is that you will have me accompany you. If possession there is, I can walk the Fade, fight the demon there.”

“I…Did not think about it that way.” She admitted. She took a deep breath. “This has never been about some silly fight, Solas. I do not want to put you in that kind of danger if this can be avoided.” He smiled and brought his hand to her cheek. She leaned into the touch.

“I appreciate the thought, vhenan. But if you cannot avoid that kind of danger yourself, I most certainly rather be there as well.”

Her arms came around his neck and she raised on tiptoe to reach his lips. She breathed the words against his mouth.

“Ma nuvenin.”


	3. Museum Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Modern setting | AU. One-shot rating: E]
> 
> Of course, they would manage to get locked within Val Royeaux museum after it closed.
> 
> NSFW.

* * *

He tried to be serious. He really did try to be, but the chuckle resounded in his throat with his words.

“Mahariel, we should try to find someone to get us out of here.”

She merely peeked at him with a smirk and settled another light kiss upon his neck.

“Where would be the fun of that?”

He shook his head with fake annoyance. She was becoming quite distracting, trailing his skin with her mouth. Patiently waiting for him to give up.

Because she had no doubt he would.

He knew her well and yet, he had not expected this reaction from her when the lights took them by surprise by going off. They had been in the elvhen wing of the museum. It was rather little, compared to the other parts of the permanent exhibition. There were few interesting artifacts, by far too less documented. The indications were more often than not _Unknown Elvhen Artifact, Ancient Times._

Though, that did not prevent them from spending hours debating about these.

And apparently enough time to hit the closure without noticing.

A shudder ran through his spine when her teeth lingered on his earlobe. She sucked gently and pulled back, lagoon eyes glimmering at him with mischief. He squinted at her.

“Vhenan.”

“Solas, you are too much a nerd to _not_ want to have sex in a museum.” She stated as she crossed her arms with defiance. A hearty chuckle emerged from the back of his throat. The skin of his cheeks warmed up.

“Is that so? What about you?” She grinned and settled a quick kiss upon his lips.

“ _I_ have had no issue making clear that I do.”

He hummed falsely thoughtful while his arms glided mechanically around her waist and pulled her closer. He drew her into a kiss. She opened her mouth to him readily. He rubbed his tongue against hers. He felt her bringing the kiss in another place, more passionate. She sucked at his bottom lip and swirled her tongue deviously.

He found himself parting for breath first. Her mouth remained close, lips brushing over his. They breathed each other air for few seconds. She peered up at him through dark eyelashes, shadow of lust darkening her bright eyes. He murmured.

“Then, tell me. _How_ would I want it?”

He felt against his mouth as much as he saw the grin extend on her features. She captured his lips again and tugged his jacket, bringing him closer. His hands went under her trench and pulled her blouse free from her skinny jean, looking for bare skin. He was barely aware of the few steps she made them take. He lowered himself with a swift move to catch her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist.

He pressed her back against the stone behind her, being distantly aware that it was no wall properly speaking.

What matters was that it freed his hands, no longer bound to hold her up around him. His lips moved to her neck, ghosting over her flesh. Her fingers fought with the buttons of his shirt. He dislodged the jacket from his own shoulders with an energetic shrug, letting it fall on the floor.

She gave a push of her hips for him to step back when his chest was bare in front of her. Her feet found the floor. Her mouth traced along his collarbone as she shoved his shirt aside. He drew on a short breath as she trailed down to his chest. Her fingers outlined the muscles of his back, faint pulse of magic at her fingertips.

She was wearing way too much clothes.

He fumbled with her coat, forcing her hands to retreat a moment to let him shove it away. He took the opportunity to slide her blouse above her head. He growled appreciatively at her bare skin despite the darkness surrounding them. The sole light was the green halo of the _exit_ sign above the door. He pressed a leg between her thighs, trapping her against the grey stone again.

His fingers unsecured nimbly the black bra. The lingerie was caught between them before he stepped back just enough for it to complete its fall. His lips found a hardened nipple. He flicked his tongue around the rose flesh.

He gave a hard suck and she slammed back her head into the stone with her soft breathless moan.

She gathered her focus to find his belt. She fidgeted with the leather, her fingers failing several times when he kept sucking and licking greedily.

His breath caught in his throat when her thin fingers wrapped around his arousal. Her thumb played over its head, gathering the drops of precum from there. He growled huskily and met her gaze. She smirked dangerously and hooked her leg around his waist. She arched her back to increase the pressure over his length. His lips parted at the grinding of her hips.

With no small annoyance toward the fabric still between their bare skins.

His hands settled firmly on her hips to push her away. His voice was dark.

“Take off your boots.”

Her skin burnt at his low tone. She purred between two breaths.

“Or what?”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned to her ear.

“You love these boots. I would hate to have to tear them apart.” She hummed.

“I may not be half as mad as you think.”

He stepped back slowly and stared deep into her eyes. She hesitated but a second. She loved seeing him lost control and grow wild.

But she did love her boots.

She sank to her knees in a way highly unnecessary only to take off shoes. Her fingers did focus upon the zips, but her mouth had something else in mind. He hissed softly at the flick of her tongue above his cock.

“Vhenan.” He warned in a growl. “Just. The. Boots.”

He wanted more than her mouth and he wanted it now.

He knew way too well the smile that was on her lips once she had get rid of the dark leather boots. He squatted quickly face to her, double-crossing her next move. He caught the hem of her pants and leaned in, lips brushing against hers.

“Stand.”

Her tongue reach for his lips, giving a small teasing lick. She bit her bottom lip, playing him for some endless seconds. She finally granted, breath tingling on his skin.

“Ma nuvenin.”

Her jean slid down her legs as she stood, his fingers stroking along her legs as it did. He had caught her undergarments with it and now faced her core with hunger in his eyes. Two fingers were quickly under his chin, forcing him to gaze up.

“ _This_ is not why I stood.” She whispered.

He let her fingers drag him up. Her breasts pressed against his bare chest. When she hooked her leg around his waist again, he felt the satisfaction of her soft skin. She shifted against him, his length at her core. She rolled her hips with a shallow breath, almost a question. He grunted and pushed her more against the stone. He rubbed with more force, reveling in how wet she was for him. His hand slid to her buttock and caught the firm flesh. Her fingers came around him to guide his length to her entrance. Her hips jerked to meet him. He growled and gave a decisive thrust. Her moan was surprised as he slipped inside vigorously. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He sunk into her again, falling into a steady pace.

He brought her leg higher around him to shift his angle. His cock grinded over her clit, earning a vocal moan. Her calf pressed over his lower back in an unvoiced plea. He collided back within her harder with a groan. Her hand brought his head to her and she nipped at his earlobe.

He kept thrusting devotedly, the raw sound of her pleasure bringing him to the edge. He captured her lips, tongue mimicking the back and forth of his hips. He drank over her moans, the vibrations of her throat echoing within his own. He squeezed her ass and brought her hips down onto his. She accompanied his movement, greedy and eager for more.

He sunk inside her over and over.

The tension built down his stomach and inside his cock. Her lips parted from him with a loud, abandoned whimper, her walls pumping around him.

His pace grew more erratic and wild, willing himself to give her more. Always more, everything that her voice was asking through her lewd cries.

She wailed his name while her inside contracted around him. It brought him down the cliff with her. His voice resounded after hers as he spilled within her.

She rode her orgasm frantically for few last thrusts, settling down breathlessly.

One arm came past her head to rest above the stone as he remained nestled within her, cock softening. They panted for long seconds in the stillness of the deserted building, clothes all over the floor around them. Her small laugh anchored him back to reality.

“Seems like you knew exactly _how,_ to answer your question.”

He chuckled softly, pushing a sweaty strand of white hair behind her pointed ear. He planted a tender kiss on her lips.

“What was this Tevene sentence I heard you used the other day?” She quirked an amused brow at the unexpected question.

“Festis bei umo canavarum? You will be the death of me?” He nodded with a loving smile.

“Precisely.”

She giggled lightly.

“I love you too.”

He stroked her cheek with a silent chuckle. He eventually looked up, more conscious now than before of the feeling of the stone under his palm and wondering what exactly they used as support if no wall it was.

The large figure of the wolf statue loomed protectively over the both of them.


	4. Untold Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Pre-romance. Rating: T]
> 
> Solas and Mahariel meets in the Fade.

* * *

Solas advanced within the eeriness of the landscape. Forms shaped around him, the room and pieces of furniture became clearer. The blurriness around his bare feet gave place to an ebony ground. Glass structures swirled along the walls, silver vines running above the dark stone.

A nostalgic smile tugged the corner of his lips while he watched the memories giving life to the Fade around him. Memories of his own. He did not let himself indulge in the vision of what once was too often. He had to remember, but there was no point in mourning over and over. He had to focus on what could be rebuilt. Sometimes though, he needed to see the familiarity, the beauty of what stood. Of a time, long ago, before the troubles rose.

He took a peaceful breath and shaped an armchair in the middle of the study.

“This is a lovely place.”

He peeked above his shoulder with no sign of surprise. He considered the Herald. The elven woman sat on a wooden table and swung her legs casually. The simplicity of her outfit was a rare sight. An ivory off-shoulder top, dark leggings and footwraps. He doubted he ever saw her wearing these clothes in the waken world. Though, she had no need for her usual layers of fabric, leather and metal here.

He knew the woman to be beautiful, but it struck him even more now than in the outside. Far from the dramatic of her armor and make-up. _Simply Mahariel_. He pondered to himself with a touch of curiosity. Not a sight she would grant to many people, considering her secretive nature.

He glanced at the armchair one second before turning away from it. His arms in his back, he sauntered toward her.

“A memory. Nothing extraordinary about this room, I am afraid. Though, it makes for a good place to think.”

Her green-blue pupils had been examining her surroundings. His voice brought them back on him. She gave a small smile and nodded.

“I can imagine. Where was it?”

“This was not a place properly speaking. This is more of a construction. Vague memories, ideas of what a study should be, that brought the pieces together.”

“Fascinating.”

The glimmer of curiosity in her eyes was one he had witnessed over the past weeks when he mentioned the Fade. She was always so genuinely curious and interested. He found some comfort in it. In seeing one of these recent beings, ready to listen, to learn from what he had to declare. He was careful, evasive even on some subjects. Though, he happily answered her unending questions as much as he could without earning suspicion. He had wanted one of them to listen to him from the moment he had awoken. He had approached Dalish clans and gained nothing but scorn.

Would she have acted as she did if he had met her within one of these clans? Or would she have been as disdainful as the others in these circumstances? He could not say. He wanted to believe her thirst for knowledge strong enough to challenge Dalish expectations, but he did not know her well enough to tell.

In any case, she was no such a bad surprise after all. That was more than he expected.

Her gaze was unreadable while he remained silent, lost in thoughts.

“Tell me about another memory.” She finally pressed. He chuckled silently and made his way back to the armchair. He sat and crossed his legs, appraising her still, storm eyes slightly squinted.

“First, tell me. Why are you here?” She raised a brow.

“Is hearing another story not good enough a reason, lethallin? Or perhaps do _you_ wish for me to be here for something else.” She challenged with a mischievous grin.

In other circumstances, he would have taken the bait of her playfulness. For the mere pleasure of beating her at it and earning this ridiculously adorable giggle that he only once heard. Instead, he rolled his eyes dismissively and leaned back into his seat.

He took in her thin features, so often covered with war-paint. It was absent for once. As much as were the grey lines of the Ghilan’nain vallaslin he knew to be under.

“It is good enough a reason. For _her_.” She laughed and shrugged.

“Don’t go all accusatory on me, wolf. I never pretended to fool _you_ of all people.”

“And yet, here you are. I take it you found yourself bored by mortals, tonight?” The white hair smirked.

“Not quite, actually. But _you_ are more interesting to visit these days.” He raised an intrigued brow.

“Am I? I hardly see how interesting I would be for you, Desire.”

“And yet, you did not question the shape I choose.”

He paused but a second. His brows furrowed and he shook his head.

“Her presence is merely one I enjoy. You are welcome to stay if you so wish, but do not try to twist one desire into another for your own entertainment.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”


	5. Nas'falon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt: Soulmates | Rating: T]  
> Solas and Mahariel spend time together after Wisdom’s death.

* * *

She made her way to her quarters after her meeting in the war room. All talks were revolving around Halamshiral. The grand ball was to happen in a little while.

 If Joséphine did not break before it, she would truly be impressed by the Antivan, seeing how much it stressed the woman.

Her eyes were set over the reports as she reached the top of the stairs, mumbling. Seamstresses appointments everywhere. Going through every single detail of Orlesian politics of the last years. So much things were still to be done.

The breath of cold air caught her attention. She looked up to find the balcony’s door open. She scanned the room, noticing quickly the books that were not her own on the desk.

Solas had always got free pass when it came to her quarters. His room was in a tower close to the rotunda, and it had taken time to fix the holes in the roof and settle proper furniture. The apostate was discreet, and had not been voicing loud protests to get something decent and private for himself quickly, satisfied enough to sleep on the rotunda’s couch while waiting. Considering, she had let him know soon that her own quarters were open to him in the meantime, including when she was not there.

A courtesy made despite the fierce rolling eyes of Vivienne, of course. Alright, maybe she lowkey saw these as one more reason to extend the said courtesy.

Solas did not ask for it. But she knew him, and having constantly people around was to annoy him. He needed quiet and alone time, and her quarters could provide that.

His room had been settled after a time, but it was a habit that remained, for him to come study here when it got too crowded for his taste downstairs.

With the craziness going around Skyhold with the Ball coming closer, it was also a way now to offer the both of them some stolen moments.

She put the papers down on the desk quietly, watching him. It had been few weeks since he came back. Few weeks also since they talked on that same balcony. He was still mourning, she could see it. A shadow that crossed his steel eyes when he was lost in thoughts. His first instinct was to hide it, to keep it for when he would be alone. Her footsteps were light over the cobblestones as she came next to him. He gave no sign, but she had no doubt he was aware of her presence when she crossed the threshold of the balcony. She respected his silence, her gaze drifting over the mountains and the orange shade of the early evening sky.

“It is getting late. Did you wish to be alone to review your last meeting?” He asked quietly.

“That can wait.”

“Thoughts?”

“I was going to ask you that.”

He wetted his lips and side-glanced at her. She offered a sweet encouraging smile. Hesitation flashed in his eyes. He shook it away.

“Forgive me, vhenan. I found myself nostalgic. How was this meeting?”

Her nose wrinkled, the ghost of a frown planning over her forehead. She did not give up so easily. She slid her hand in his and fell back silent, waiting patiently. His eyes dropped to their joined hands, almost surprised an instant. A tender smile tugged the corner of his lips and he entangled their fingers. Her thumb drew small circles upon the back of his hand. His features softened at the small gesture. He uttered.

“It would have loved you.”

This was the first time she made him admit he was thinking about his deceased friend. She looked at him softly.

“Tell me about Wisdom, vhenan’ara.”

She saw the hesitation crossing his features again. And then, he looked at her, as if she was the most precious, impossible thing that could come to pass. His perfect lips slightly parted, eyes intense in hers. Her chest warmed at the love in his gaze, unknowing of what earned it. He shook the hesitation away again, but this time, she knew it was in the right way. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss upon her fingers. He leaned more over the guardrail, wistful. She mirrored his position, shoulder grazing his.

“Wisdom is different from Knowledge. It _has_ incommensurable knowledge, but it was not the only thing about it. It is not about having the answers, it is about asking the right question. It could be light-hearted as well. One often pictures Wisdom as serious, stern old man. Wisdom, in truth, brings a peace of mind that has not to be stranger to humour. It was full of wits.”

A faint chuckle escaped his mouth.

“One who seeks advice to Wisdom must be prepared, for it rarely is what you wish to hear. This is no simple, straight answer. It makes you question only more.”

He paused then. His smile fluttered. His voice grew lower.

“I had known it my whole life. It was my dearest and oldest friend.”

She nodded and leaned more against him. His arm came around her, bringing her against his chest. She would have loved to find words to comfort him. But the truth was, there was no word that would do such effect. That would take the pain off of his heart. Sometimes, being here had to be enough, and it was one of those time. He kissed the top of her head, his body relaxing at the warmth she brought him, as much physically as emotionally. She pondered.

“Nas’falon.”

He looked down at her, pondering what she offered. It sounded only logical deduction. Yet, as he considered her…

“Perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Credit to FenxShiral and the Project Elvhen for the elvhen!]
> 
> Vhenan'ara - Desire of my heart.
> 
> Nas’falon – soulmate. The elvhen concept is not intrinsically romantic. It applies to a relationship where two people are so incredible close, so incredibly devoted to each other and incredibly inseparable, that it is as if they share a soul. In the Elvhen context, you only ever have one nas’falon, one soul mate.


	6. Sketches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rated T - pre-romance]
> 
> That was written some times ago, but I figured some fluffy elven stuffs were a good way to start 2019. Happy New Year !
> 
> Solas and Mahariel argued after an unfortunate meeting with a Crow. Varric think both apostates ridiculous for the uneasiness between them.

* * *

Varric stood from the campfire, eyeing the party. Awfully quiet. Cassandra had retired early, as she often did. He suspected she did mostly because of him.

They were still in the Hinterlands. They had spent some time here already, even though they found Mother Giselle weeks ago. Mahariel wanted to help the refugees and kept stalling their venture back to Haven, always pleading it was just a little thing that one needed, that it would not take long.

She was not speaking a lot to the others. She did speak to the dwarf, however. He knew better than prying relentlessly and was easy-going. Cassandra was wary around her. Solas was aloof, quietly keeping his distances. He knew there had been an incident at the beginning of the travel, an assassin, while the seeker and him were asleep. The elves were pissed at each other ever since. It was, actually, preposterous if one asked him, considering what the white-hair reluctantly related for him. But apparently, both elves were still set in their stubbornness.

He took few steps around, considering the elves. They were both sitting against trees, as opposed to one another as they could without losing the warmth and light of the fire. Solas was visibly sketching something, while Mahariel was reading.

Or so he thought at first. He remained quiet as he observed her a moment, noticing she hardly turned a single page. He took few steps closer discreetly, wondering what truly got her attention. Seeing her from profile, he spotted the movement of her hand above the paper. Probably sketching something too, then. He had seen her draw once or twice, always when she thought no one would notice. She was good at remaining discreet, usually, but way less when she was drawing, her focus dedicated to something else than being low-key.

He grabbed few drafts in his pack as both elves darted at him suspiciously. Right, better pretend to do something else than observing them. It did the trick quickly as they relaxed and brought their eyes back to their sheet, not exchanging a single look. He scrabbled some notes quickly, still observing from the corner of his eye.

A small smile tugged his lips as he forced himself not to laugh. After a couple minutes, there was a clear pattern in their attitude. His teeth dived into his lip, the urge to tease hard to suppress. Yet, if his hunch was true, he had to catch them on the fact or these stubborn elves would be able to burn the pages only to deny it.

He was a rogue. He could be incredibly discreet, stealthy if he so wished. He did not make a single sound as he stood again and strolled in Solas’ general direction. The elf noticed him a bit too late for the dwarf not to take a glimpse of the sketch before he closed the book with haste.

“Something I can help you with, Master Tethras?” Varric raised his hands in innocence.

“Merely curious of what it is you appear so devoted to represent truthfully.”

Solas’ nose wrinkled face to his grin. He glanced quickly to an embrium next to them.

“It is but a study of the local wildlife.” Both of Varric’s brow raised, gleam of mirth in his eyes. His voice dropped conspiratorially and he leaned a bit closer.

“That’s one way to put it.”

He winked before straightening, muttering a delighted chuckle at the expression of the elf. He was about to protest when the dwarf silenced him with a gesture.

“Easy, Chuckles. I’m certain there is a perfectly logical explanation on how her face and the Anchor are somewhat related and you are but studying the effects. What I truly want to hear is what _she_ is going to come up with to justify hers.”

Solas merely frowned, not quite understanding as the dwarf put a finger on his lip, intimating silence. He pricked up his ear despite himself as Varric made his way to Mahariel’s side. The elf did not even acknowledge his presence, glaring at her paper. Varric looked over her shoulder, spotting easily the line troubling her, the paper wrinkled where she had erased.

“Troubles with the cheekbone?”

“Each line is so hard, salient. And it works so naturally on him, but I cannot quite get – “

Her mouth fell open and she closed the book over her sketch with urgency. The tips of the ears reddened immediately as she suddenly remembered herself. She was so distracted trying to figure out her line, she did not proceed fully the presence and her thoughts ran freely off her tongue. Solas had to hide his surprise and a faint blush by looking down at his sheet, pretending not to be listening. Varric laughed heartily.

“Now, I cannot wait to hear you try to get out of that one.”

“I…Hmm…This was…meant to be…”

“Chuckles.”

“No.” She protested eagerly. “No, most certainly not. You did not let me finish, I was going to put…Hair. It was not Solas.”

“Solas with hair is still Solas.” She mumbled under her breath.

“I chose my day to succeed in doing something looking like the actual model.”


End file.
